


Conversational Circumstances

by Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4264650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr/pseuds/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transformers Generation One Alternate Universe:<br/>In the war with the Decepticons, the United States Military has decided they need more protection than the Autobots can provide.  They commissioned the TransArmor project, in which soldiers from all branches of Military, Air Force, Marines, Navy, Army, Coast Guard, are paired with non-sentient transforming armor suits.  In order to help the soldiers with controlling the otherwise unwieldy suits, which measured between 20-100ft tall, the suits were fitted with neuro-interfaces and rudimentary AI units.  </p><p>The TransArmor Core now fights alongside the Autobots, attempting to turn the tide against the Decepticons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He knew they were behind him. He knew they would follow him to their deaths. Gone were the days, however, where he had accepted any one soldier dying for the greater cause because gone were the days when he could glance over Ratchet's reports and not know a single name amongst the dead. He knew them all, now, their names, their habits, their hopes and fears. The war had made them family. Sons and daughters, as the humans would say. He would protect them with his life, just as they would protect his with theirs.

He lead the charge, just as they knew he would. He felt the heat of near-misses increase until a burst of cool air, the absence of a missile or laser blast, normal empty air, startled instead of relieved. The smell of his own circuits beginning to overheat from exhaustion distracted and disgusted him; when had delegating become more important than leading? When had resting and training fallen to the wayside for endless diplomacy and bureaucracy?

_When you woke on this tiny ball of mud and organics_ , a voice from the Matrix whispered.

_Pay attention!_ Another one shouted. _Behind you! Soundwave!_

Optimus dodged to the side, but not before heat from the Host's primary weapon seared into delicate circuits along a transform seam on his back. He didn't spare the breath to cry out, turning to level his own weapon toward the Decepticon while simultaneously opening a comm almost on instinct to Jazz. A small section of his mind, or maybe the Matrix, wondered why the agent hadn't kept Soundwave busy.

The signal never reached the now-Porsche; it instead was caught by his messaging system. Optimus was, as he dodged another blast that made his own shot go wide, belatedly reminded that Jazz was not currently in the realm of moving parts. Mixmaster had gotten him, Inferno and Arcee with a harsh stimulant that still had them in the med bay--

A burst of pain reminded him that checking in on his soldiers must be put aside for a less turbulent moment, when Bruticus wasn't hurling pieces of the scenery at him. The combiner did present an interesting opportunity, however. Optimus grabbed Soundwave and, ignoring the efforts of the cassettes to get him to let go of their protector, used the Decepticon communications officer to shield himself from the next bit of rock and earth thrown. It worked long enough for him to jump to the side, Soundwave and his hostlets neutralized for the moment, one buried, four attempting to remedy the situation. Optimus noted Laserbeak missing but knew that particular cassette was just as much Megatron's as Soundwave's.

Activating the auxiliary systems that made it possible for him to ignore the damage achieved so far, Optimus stood straight and headed for a knot of activity surrounding Hound, Tracks and Smokescreen. In separate moments their optics met his, though none drew attention to him; they all knew better than to call him sir on the battle field. They had all learned long ago that upon hearing Optimus was near, all Decepticons would immediately forgo their targets to focus on the Autobot Leader.

They knew the saying as well as any Cybertronian. The day the Autobots had no Prime would be the day they fell.

Jet engines screamed overhead, accompanied by the now-familiar static-cling presence generated by Skywarp's unique ability. Optimus cataloged the sounds of the engines in a currently unused part of his processor and was startled by the conclusion that there were three, one of which he didn't immediately recognize. He finished with the task of rendering the closest of the Decepticons in dire need of a medic's care and sent Hound and Smokescreen to aid in two other knots of fighting before escorting Tracks to the medic line, such as it was. The Protectobots would not be aiding Superion in the fight against Bruticus, he noticed; First Aid was needed too desperately where he was.

Only once he was out on the battlefield again did he look to see who the unrecognized jet engine belonged to.

The F-22 Raptor banked sharply before tucking into a spiral, the movements careful enough to betray the fragile human pilot at the controls. The jet itself was in amazingly good shape after having been matched up against the two Seekers for almost four minutes already. Optimus tossed out a scan and nodded slightly to himself at the result; a TransArmor unit. The Mercury.

Just as the information was being acknowledged by his processor the unit transformed, using newly exposed jets to slide sideways in the air as if ignoring all physics and gravity to dodge a missile fired by Skywarp. Optimus found himself watching as if transfixed, the armor unit giving back just about as much damage to both Seekers as it got for yet another minute. He could almost see Skywarp and Thundercracker's tempers mounting; they were expert aerial combatants and would no doubt be ridiculed later by their fellows for getting damaged by a mere human.

Even to an observer, Starscream's arrival was startling. The air commander appeared as if gifted by Skywarp's abilities, taking the Mercury's concentration on his wing mechs as an opening to wrench the suit's wings around in a fashion that made Optimus wince before slamming both fists into one of the Mercury's shoulders. The unit dropped out of the sky instantly.

Thoughts, voices from the Matrix, all sound externally, fell by the wayside as the large mech's world narrowed to the patch of land the Mercury had met with violent force. He sprinted in that direction, either ignoring or quickly shoving through small knots of fighting, his weapon growing hot with constant use. When the world abruptly upended and a burst of agony bit into his consciousness Optimus knew he had made a critical mistake in allowing his worry for the human pilot override all else. His sensors were scrambling to make sense of the readings they fed him, his gyro circuits attempted to compensate for a flight unwanted.

A stray thought informed him that at least he was still heading in the direction in which the Mercury had disappeared, though at a speed guaranteed to promise a harsh meeting with the trees and rocks below.

He heard Red Alert's dismayed cry under Bruticus' victorious bellow just before the ground rushed to embrace him at gravity's insistence.

_Oh_ , he thought in a moment of startling clarity, _this is going to make Ratchet mad_.


	2. Chapter 2

He hated battle field repair. More than anything else on the formidable list of things he hated, it topped the list. Everything else shifted around depending on what bothered him at any particular moment but this never strayed. Everyone screaming at him and his med techs. Everyone demanding to get repaired, get painkiller, get attention now-- save his favorite few who insisted on trying to get back to the front lines before the welds had cooled or he'd managed to get around to even patching their damage.

His fingers threatened to slide across the surface of the armor he was currently working on, made slick by all the fluids which should be inside the mech, not dripping into the mud in a small cascade of several different colors. Clear, opalescent, pink, blue, black, purple, each with its own corresponding tube that had been hacked, torn or blasted.

Somehow, where ever they fought, it always ended up being muddy, no matter how parched the ground had been before they arrived. Then again, twenty or more mechs dripping vital fluids with only five med techs to see to stopping the leaking created enough moisture to sake a desert's thirst. Ratchet had even seen strange plants growing in their former battle fields here on earth, when he had been forced to return to the scene for one reason or another.

This planet was crazy, creating life where sparks had been in danger of extinguishing. He never told anyone that he had taken one of those strange plants with its crystal flowers back to the med bay, keeping it tucked away in a secluded corner of his office. Ratchet was, after all, a healer, and always hovering in the back of his mind was the fact that Cybertron itself was in sore need of this kind of vigorous life.

The ground shook, sending his fingers skittering across the armor under them like a flat bit of steel over a frozen lake. Thankfully he'd just finished the repair and the movement didn't hurt his patient any.

"Sir?" It was First Aid, looking just about as exhausted as Ratchet felt. Something in the CMO's spark squirmed uncomfortably; the sparklet was far too young to look that tired. Ratchet couldn't do a thing about it, however, as the Protectobot was the best set of hands he had.

"When this is over," he couldn't stop himself from saying, "you'll get some solid time off with your brothers. What is it?"

They both knew it wouldn't happen. It was never 'over'.

"Prime just brought Tracks in and there are reports of TransArmors in the area. The Mercury has been confirmed, the Phantom sighted and others unconfirmed."

"Good mech," Ratchet told him gruffly, scrubbing his hands clean of the worst gunk before signaling those who had been slotted for medical dispatch to take the poor mech he'd been working on back to the base. Wheeljack was in the med bay, doing what he could to keep those who still needed Ratchet's attention stable until this battle ended. "How bad is Tracks?"

"Better than Gears, worse than Beachcomber."

They crossed to the corvette's side, Ratchet instantly noticing splashes of mech fluid on the warrior's frame that didn't belong to him. "Who's that belong to?" He asked, unable to make the question sound like anything other than a grumpy demand.

"Prime," Tracks murmured, his voice quiet and drifting. The head damage would account for that and for why the fastidious mech wasn't complaining about how the fluid was compromising his finish.

"Where is Prime?" He asked, settling to the relatively simple repair. First Aid, Primus bless his spark, seemed to just know when Ratchet's hands and mind needed a break from the critical cases.

"He went back out," the warrior replied, shutting off his optics, probably in an attempt to ease the way Ratchet knew his repairs were causing the mech's world to spin.

"Of course he did," the medic grumbled, partly to give vent to the frustration the Autobot Leader caused him with his sometimes blatant disregard for his own safety and partly to set Tracks at ease. Everyone in the army knew that if Ratchet felt he could complain about a third party while working on their repairs, they would be just fine. Ah, there was that slight smile and when Tracks relaxed, Ratchet deftly switched out the parts he hadn't been able to access due to the tension in the corvette's frame.

They shared a companionable silence for a few moments; a brief second to rest. Both mechs then felt the ground tremble once more and knew their transient respite had come to an end.

Rising in tandem, Ratchet set a hand on Tracks' shoulder before the mech could go back to the front lines. "Go help the medical haulers. No arguments. You could kill yourself going back out before that repair settles."

Tracks nodded reluctantly, vanishing into the smoke that suddenly bathed the field. Either Smokescreen had lit it up or the 'Cons had gotten something nasty off. Ducking into a crouch so his bright white helm wouldn't be spotted as a sniper target, Ratchet cursed the smoke around. With all the interference he'd be lucky to find his next patient, much less be able to do a decent repair. Just as he was working up to a really good round of cursing a wind tore across the field, revealing two things, one of which threatened to give him a processor melt down, the other of which was just enough to alleviate the stress. The latter was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker getting the drop on Megatron and forcing him to call the retreat so he could escape their tender mercies without looking like a coward, a death sentence among the Decepticons, even for him.

The former was Bruticus' foot connecting solidly with Optimus Prime's side, sending the large mech toward a no doubt uncomfortable meeting with the ground, which only spelled one thing; more work for Ratchet. On top of that, before he could calculate which patch of ground the Leader had disappeared into he was knocked to the ground by Hot Rod, losing sight of everything but the sky overhead. The young mech wasn't to blame, however; a missile exploded where they had been a few seconds later.

"Primus fragit," the CMO muttered, trying to keep even the smallest hold on his temper as he gazed up at the storm clouds beginning to build overhead, "Prime better know _just_ how fragged off he just made me."

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Sir? Can you hear me?”

The voice was small and in a language he didn’t immediately recognize. After a moment his translator clicked online and repeated the questions for him in a language his battered processor could currently comprehend.

“Yes,” he replied, the word rumbling out of his chest in base Cybertronian. Attempting to power on his optics only revealed one thing; a scattering of swirling and glowing lights against a star-scape of yellow and rose.

“C’mon now, son, don’t give up on ‘im now, not after all th’ hard work he’s put inta ya,” a voice with a familiar accent chided him.

“Ironhide?” He questioned, worried. This was the Matrix, he knew, and if the old mech was here–

“Naw,” the voice scoffed. “That young mech’s still kickin’ ’round where you oughta be. G’wan back, now.”

“He’s right, Optimus.” This voice the Leader of the Autobots recognized without any trouble; his direct predecessor, Sentinel. He didn’t often speak but now he apparently felt it was needed. “You’re badly damaged but not offline, not yet. Go back and reassure your minute organic companion that he hasn’t sparked an intergalactic incident by killing you.”

Optimus resisted the urge to give an exasperated sigh at Sentinel’s condescending tone when he spoke of humans. “Sentinel,” he started, his voice kept carefully civil, “you know as well as I do–”

“Now is not the time,” a new voice stated, quiet in its majesty. It was much older than the others and a femme, besides: Prima. Everyone fell quiet to listen with a respectful air, even Sentinel. “Optimus, you must go. And though circumstances may seem like moving is the best course of action, I can assure you, it is not, until you have been repaired.”

“I understand,” he was murmuring respectfully as the swirling darkness removed him from the presence of Primes past.

“Optimus, if you can hear me, please respond.” The voice, which was now resigned, paused. “In English.”

“Yes,” Optimus said again, only realizing after the fact that he was still speaking in Cybertronian. He reset his vocalizer to the proper language track and tried again. “Yes, I can year you.” Relief swept him when it came out in slightly accented English.

This time his optics powered on with only a slight sparking and a brief moment of static. He was just about blinded, however, by the insistent display of internal repair reports; all were the bright red he never wanted to see. As soon as he focused on them they condensed into a few important facts; he really shouldn’t try moving anything other than his left arm, if he didn’t get energon in the next eight hours he would go into undercharge stasis and Ratchet was going to be very, very upset with him when he finally got into the med bay.

Optimus felt a hand on his side and looked down with his optics only, knowing moving his head was one of the things he shouldn’t do. The hand belonged to an arm and subsequently to a mech he didn’t recognize, causing him to reach with his functioning arm toward his subspace pocket and one of the weapons kept on hand there. A compartment opened on the mech’s chest and he paused, watching as it unfolded to reveal a dark-skinned yet light-eyed human sitting in a control seat. He recognized Lieutenant Colonel Jaden Celbron, one of the soldiers in a joint venture by the US Government and the Autobots to help the humans defend themselves against the Decepticons more effectively. This also meant that the ‘mech’ beside him wasn’t a mech at all but a TransArmor suit with a limited AI to help the human pilot control the large and otherwise unwieldy mass of metal. Wheeljack and Ratchet had equated the AI’s intelligence to that of a turbo-pup, but it suited the human’s needs. This was the TA-Mercury: F-22 Raptor, to be exact.

“Sir,” the Lieutenant Colonel was saying, “please do not attempt to move. I’ve done what I can for your damage but there are several places I simply could not reach.”

“I’m sure,” Optimius rumbled, “you did your best. Are you alright?” The question was habit and came out before his memory banks helpfully showed him a recording of the Mercury being tag-teamed by Skywarp and Thundercracker before Starscream had appeared to knock the suit out of the sky. Optimus remembered being impressed at the Lieutenant Colonel’s piloting skills, that he had held out so long, about five minutes, against the three Seekers. Then again, the Mercury was the second-most powerful and agile of the TransArmor suits, second only to the Aries.

Celbron hesitated so briefly that Optimus almost missed it. A human probably would have; it was just enough time for the African American to take a slightly deeper breath than usual. “I am fine.”

It briefly amused the Leader of the Autobots how much this human sounded like his second in command when Prowl was attempting to convince Optimus he was fit for duty despite Ratchet’s warnings to the contrary. He took pains not to let the amusement show as he didn’t know how easily offended this particular human was. “Is the suit damaged?”

The suit shifted slightly and Celbron raised a hand to brush the edge of a console. Optimus watched as the man’s expression softened ever so slightly before he spoke. His tone, however, did not change. “The Mercury can not transform at the moment, or fly. His wings were badly damaged by the crash.”

Optimus’ sensors flicked to the human at the use of the pronoun. He discovered, when he focused more closely on the man, that he was bleeding internally and had several other injuries, including a broken arm and a concussion. This explained why he had been unable to reach Optimus’ more delicate damage; though Celbron’s hands were nimble, the TransArmor’s were not.

“It sounds like we both need a medic’s care, then,” he said, leaving it up to Celbron to determine who he meant by ‘we’. He wasn’t surprised when the human simply gave a slight nod.

“My communications equipment was removed during the fight, is yours functional?” Celbron asked a bit later. Optimus dimmed his optics slightly, bringing the damage report to the fore of his vision again.

“It seems my link to Teletran One and Blaster are non functional. Short-range communications are online, however.”

“Better than nothing,” the Lieutenant Colonel agreed, turning his green gaze in the direction of the base, despite the fact that there was a hundred-foot wall between him and it.

They both started at a sudden flash of light overhead, which was followed by a nearby crash of thunder. “When did the weather turn?” Optimus asked, sliding his gaze upward at dark clouds that had not been there when the Decepticons had attacked.

“An hour ago,” Celbron replied, folding back into the suit’s chest as a cold wind whipped through the rocks. The suit stood, moving to the opening of the small box canyon to examine the ground and the walls there. A few moments later he was striding back to Optimus, a hand out-stretched to presumably help the commander to his feet. “We are in a flash-flood zone, from the marks on the ground and walls. We need to move– quickly. The rain has no doubt begun elsewhere.”

“Unfortunately, moving is not an option for me until my internal repairs complete a bit more or I see a medic’s care,” Optimus told him, staying where he was. “Go, find help, return with it. I will survive until then.”

The Mercury stood straight, visor fixed on the Autobot Leader. After a few minutes had passed, Optimus opened his mouth with the idea of making sure the Lieutenant Colonel had not passed out, but before he could the human spoke. “You are the ranking officer here, sir,” he said, his tone careful. “However, though I respect you a great deal, you are not my commander. If you can not move than we will simply need to block off the entrance to the canyon so the water does not damage either of us further.”

Optimus found himself chuckling. “I can’t say I expected anything less,” he replied. “My own soldiers would have refused as well. I won’t hold it against you.”

The suit nodded in acceptance. “Do you have any rope or cable?”

“Yes,” Optimus said, absently reaching into his subspace pocket with his left hand. Just as his searching fingers brushed the cable his proximity alarms, which he had set as far out as he could currently trust them, shrilled a warning. “Colonel, there is a vehicle coming up the canyon from the south.”

“What kind?” Celbron asked, the suit immediately unhooking one of the few guns undamaged by the fight and holding it ready.

Optimus waited until he could get a clearer readout before replying. “A Humvee. It looks to be a M997.”

“Does it have Cybertronian tech?” Coming from anyone else the question would be strange. As Celbron was currently sitting in a suit made from said Cybertronian tech, Optimus knew what he was really asking.

“It does appear to be a TA-Phantom, yes.”

“That will hopefully be second lieutenant Michaels,” Celbron murmured, turning again to the entrance of the canyon. The suit, footsteps surprisingly quiet for a machine of its size, vanished around the bend just as another lightning strike crashed overhead.


	4. Chapter 4

“–is a good idea, or would be if I couldn’t tell you’ve got a broken arm. Honestly, sir, I’m surprised you’re conscious, the condition you and your suit are in.”

“Be that as it may, I _am_ going to get to work as soon as we are in cover.”

Optimus returned his gaze to the entrance of the canyon as the two suits entered, nodding slightly in greeting to the newcomer, who headed straight over to kneel beside the large Autobot. “He wouldn’t tell me he was injured,” he greeted, prompting a laugh from the Phantom’s pilot.

“He is that way, sir. I’m Second Lieutenant Medic Jonathon Michaels. Most call me Jon, Michaels, Grizzly or ‘you with the medic cross’.”

“Good to meet you,” Optimus replied with a chuckle. “I don’t normally enjoy much formality from most of my troops so feel free to drop the ’sir’ and call me either Optimus or Prime. The same goes for the Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Celbron’d choke if he didn’t call a superior officer ’sir’,” Michaels said cheerfully. “And _I’d_ choke if he let anyone call him anything other than his rank or code name within my hearing.”

Optimus glanced over at the Lieutenant Colonel, who was busy stacking boulders and tree trucks in a barrier at the front of the canyon in an effort to block any flash floods that might come. He was either ignoring them or concentrating hard enough on his task that he didn’t hear their conversation. “Have you sent out a comm with our location?”

“No sir,” Michaels replied calmly as he began working on Optimus’ repairs. The fingers on the Phantom, as it was a medical unit, were more dexterous than the war-built Mercury. “Last I was informed Soundwave was in the area so we were observing radio silence. I don’t know much about repair of Autobots, mind, so tell me if I’m about t’do something bad.”

“Don’t cinch that line.”

Michaels drew back, even the expressionless face of the TransArmor looking startled. Celbron had somehow managed to sneak up on them. “Ah, yes, sir,” Michaels said, removing the cinch he head just placed. The Mercury gathered the cable Optimus had unspaced earlier, pausing only to point out which were vital feeds that could not be cinched and where the worst of the damage was on Optimus’ frame before heading back to the dam.

Nonplussed, Michales and Optimus gazed at each other for a moment before the former gave a soft chuckle. “I should have remembered that he was always making changes and repairs to the Mercury when we were stationed together so he knows the tech.”

“You’re not stationed together now?” Optimus asked, handing over a part he found in his subspace pocket that he knew Michaels would need. The question was conversational only; he knew that Celbron was stationed at the Autobot’s new city with a small squad of TransArmor units of the Spitfire class. The Phantom was of the Sweep class.

“Thanks. No, something happened between him and Major Xavier which caused him to put in for transfer. Don’t know what it was– they seem friendly enough toward each other.” Michaels paused and the suit glanced up. “Not that I’m gossiping.”

“Of course not,” Optimus assured, watching the repair process more carefully as his head cleared. “The repairs are helping, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Michaels returned, a smile clear in his voice. Soon the time came where he had done all he could, however, and he had the suit sit back on its haunches. “How’re you feeling?”

“Much better,” Optimus replied, shifting slightly to sit up against the side of the canyon instead of laying down like he had been. “I don’t think I could transform or walk, but I’m no longer in danger of going into stasis lock.”

“That is much better,” Michaels agreed. “Glad I could help.”

“The barrier is as good as I can make it,” Celbron said, moving back over to them just as rain began to patter down. “Do you have a tarp or similar covering, sir? You probably shouldn’t be getting wet.”

“I do,” Optimus said, unspacing a, to the humans, very large covering sheet. “This should do to shelter all of us. The Mercury shouldn’t be getting wet, either.”

“True enough,” Michaels agreed, taking the tarp and unhooking some rope he had in a side compartment as he went. “You should rest, Colonel. I’ll set up the shelter.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was Optimus who heard the roar first. “Michaels, he said, causing the human to look up from where he was tending a small fire. Celbron, who had settled in the Mercury’s hand, stating it to be more comfortable than the ground, heard the urgency in Optimus’ voice and looked up as well. “There’s a flood coming,” Optimus continued.

“Stay here,” Michaels told them both, which Optimus reluctantly agreed to but Celbron ignored, the suit lifting him so he could climb into the pilot seat easily. Optimus started, momentarily distracted; he hadn’t been aware the suits could actually move on their own. From the way Michaels stopped just short of climbing into his own pilot seat to stare, it wasn’t common knowledge. “You’ll have to show me how you did that later,” he said after a few seconds pause. “Ah, sir.”

“Later,” Celbron agreed, his voice coming from the suit’s speakers. “Now we must brace the dam.”

The two suits quickly set themselves against the barrier, Optimus watching the Mercury with worried optics. The young Lieutenant Colonel had allowed Michaels to brace his arm and tend to a few other injuries but they had both agreed that he needed to get into a hospital, soon. Optimus had again tried to order them to go find help but both had outright refused. The Autobot Leader admired their loyalty but at the same time found it exasperating.

Within seconds they could all hear the roar, then feel the reverberations the wall of water caused as it rushed toward them. “Steady,” Optimus encouraged, wishing he could do more than just sit there and watch.

Water slammed into the barrier, bursting through small gaps they had been unable to fill. It was a true flash-flood; all the water the rain had dumped higher on the hills was channeled into this lonely canyon, carrying with it everything not tied down. Boulders and trees smashed into their barrier, causing the entire thing to shudder against the two armor units bracing it. Minutes later the worst of the surge had passed, leaving only a few feet deep river which was contained by the banks and didn’t reach their dam. The Phantom straitened first, peeking over the dame to make sure the worst of the danger had passed. Its frame was covered in mud and grit.

“Well, that was an adventure,” he announced, glancing over at his companion, who hadn’t moved yet. “Sir? You okay?”

“Yes,” Celbron said shortly, the Mercury finally straitening. It didn’t take Red Alert to know the man was lying.

“Of course,” Michaels agreed, the Phantom taking a few streps to brace the Mercury. “You’re not fooling me by a long shot, sir. Come on, let’s see what damage you did to yourself.”

**

"You lied to me," he heard Michaels saying as his optics reluctantly obeyed the commands of his processor and powered up.

"It was unintended," came the quiet and breathy reply.

"Bullshit. You've always known you were this bad off," the medical officer shot back. "What'm I gonna tell that girl, sir?"

"Major Xavier--"

"Ha, you admit it, then?"

Silence.

"Colonel? C'mon, no playing mute. Talk to me, stay awake. What about the Major?"

His optics finally transmitted data to his visual receptors in a manner they could understand, revealing Michaels bending over Celbron, whom was once again reclining in the Mercury's hand.

"She will know who to tell."

"What is the problem, Michaels?" Optimus asked softly, noting one of his legs was being used to brace some kind of cooking apparatus over the fire. Well, since he couldn't move that leg in the first place he didn't particularly mind. One got used to being used as furniture, he remembered hearing someone say, when you were quadruple the size of the majority of the tool-using organisms on the planet. It may have been Wheeljack, in one of his more wry moods.

"The 'problem' is the Colonel," Michaels replied, shaking his head. "He neglected to mention that one of his broken ribs had punctured his lung while we were bracing the dam."

Optimus' optics widened and he sat up straight, absently pleased to note that he could sit up straight. His fuel levels were alarmingly low but that could be dealt with in a few minutes. "Has it collapsed?"

"Why am I not surprised you know about human physiology?" Michaels asked with a grin. "No, but every time he moves he puts himself at risk."

"Ratchet insisted that we officers knew basic repair and basic first aid," Optimus said quietly. "After someone died under my watch." He reached into a section of his pocket kept carefully away from everything else, pulling out a medical kit almost as large as his hand and setting it carefully on the ground next to Michaels. "I made sure I wouldn't be so helpless the next time."

Michaels looked up and met the large mech's gaze squarely with a nod before moving to open the kit. "I know how that feels," he returned. "Sometimes--"

"This is not one of those times," Optimus rumbled firmly, as if his words could undo the injuries the lieutenant colonel had sustained.

"You read my mind," Michaels agreed, breaking open some syringes and carrying two of the small glass bottles over to Celbron. "Morphone and a broad spectrum antibiotic," he murmured. Celbron merely lifted his unbroken arm, not sparing the energy to reply. A few minutes later Michaels looked up at Optimus. "And yours?"

Arching an optic ridge at the human, the leader unspaced a ration of energon, some oil and a packet of silicon wavers, knowing his self-repair circuits needed everything he could give them at the moment. "Right here," he replied.

"Good man," Michaels approved.

"Feel free to get some rest if you need it," Optimus offered. "I can watch the lieutenant colonel."

"Who'd watch you, then?" Michaels asked settling next to the fire and pouring himself something dark from a metal pot suspended over the flames. "No, coffee will see me through. Blessed, blessed coffee."

Optimus chuckled and settled to refueling, for once allowing himself to fill his tanks to capacity; the suits had their own power source and there were no other Autobots around for him to stint himself for. Only once he was done did he look up to find Michaels watching him over the rim of his metal cup approvingly.

"Don't mind me," the human told him with a flip of one hand. "I've seen a lot of people not eat right when their bodies need the fuel for healing. Particularly commanders." He paused. "The good ones, at least."


	6. Chapter 6

Ratchet knew there was a problem when Ironhide limped into the med bay, his expression carefully masked.

"One," he said, not bothering to clear the tired rasp from his tone, "why are you limping, two, whatever's got you looking like that can stay in your processor until I'm free of this mess. Go wait in my office. Pipes, look him over."

"Just's long's you getta chance t'sit down, youngmech," Ironhide replied, nodding to Pipes as they headed for Ratchet's office.

Ratchet snorted, the sound sardonic. It took him close to half an hour to get free of the tangle in the med bay, which still included Jazz. Arcee and Inferno, thankfully, had been sent home with strict instructions for bed rest. Jazz had gotten with such a concentrated dose of the stimulant that his fluid pump had seized, something Sparkplug had always equated to being like a human heart attack.

"How is he?" Ironhide asked after Ratchet closed his office door behind him, cutting off all the sound from the med bay. The old mech had seen Ratchet coming out of the private room Jazz was resting in.

"The new fluid pump's taking well," Ratchet replied, getting himself some energon before sinking down into his chair. "He'll be up and about in...three, four days, if he doesn't try to pull some crazy stunt like he's prone to. I told him a week, just to be sure."

"Thank Primus. That young mech scared the slag outta the twins'n Blue, keelin' over like he did." Ironhide leaned back in his chair, eying Ratchet until the medic remembered the energon in his hands and took a sip.

"Scared the slag outta me, too, until I realized what was going on."

The two sat in companionable silence until Ratchet had finished his mid-grade. 

"You haven't found him." Ratchet's words were in no way a question. After all, the Leader would have appeared in his med bay if he had been found, alive or otherwise.

"No," Ironhide sighed, lifting one hand to rub his chin gently. "No, we haven't. He can't coordinate usin' our comms for a search; Soundwave wasn't seen leavin' with the rest of the 'Cons."

"Which means he's still in the area and even secure comms through Blaster might be picked up by him. If the 'Cons know he's out there somewhere damaged and alone, they'd send him back in pieces," Ratchet finished, shuttering his optics. "How are Prowl and Magnus holding up?"

"I've been tradin' shifts with them. We're all tired an' we know we won't be gettin' any rest when we do find him, either."

"Because according to Hound, he'd already sustained heavy damage before getting kicked by Bruticus."

Ironhide nodded. "I need t'know when the Arialbots're gonna be up again."

"Tomorrow morni-- wait, what time is it?" Ratchet had stopped trusting his internal chronometer a long time ago; he knew it never seemed to be right. 

"'Bout six in th' evening. You actually made good time on the repairs; the battle ended 'bout noon."

"Hmph." Ratchet rose and got himself another mid-grade. "Don't you dare mention anything about anythin' other than work in here; that's when this place goes to slag. If it's really six pm, then they'll be ready to go out tomorrow at dawn. Wing damage is tricky business."

Ironhide didn't question Ratchet's superstition; he'd seen it in action enough times to half-way believe it himself. "Understood. Is everyone stable?"

"For the most part. I don't like how Tracks keeps snapping on and off but I'm not gonna figure anything out until my hands stop shaking."

"Go to quarters," Ironhide told him. "I'll pull Smokescreen in to keep an optic on things so you, First Aid and Pipes can all get some good time. You know Jazz insists his people know basic repair."

"Primus bless the miscreant," Ratchet agreed, standing when Ironhide did. "Get some rest yourself."

"I will," the old warrior said, waving Ratchet through the door to the medic's quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

Midnight came quietly to both the med bay and to the canyon. The continued rain had the river lapping at the edges of the dam, threatening to pull it down with every centimeter the water rose.

Thanks to the fire and the two armor suits acting as windbreaks, the air in their small shelter was quite warm. Despite his assurances to the contrary Michaels had dozed off an hour before, leaning back against his Phantom. Optimus had found a human-sized blanket in his subspace pocket and draped it carefully over the human, not wanting the only healthy member of their party to get sick. Optimus himself was half in recharge, lulled by the warmth, rain, river and having full tanks. He was surprisingly comfortable as well, the limestone at his back just soft enough to have worn to his shape by now. It was in this drowsy half-recharge that he saw the Mercury's visor light and its head lift, all the while Celbron lay unmoving save for a gentle rise and fall of his chest in its hand. Optimus was abruptly reminded that Celbron had called the suit 'he'.

"Don't die."

The voice was soft and spoken in the most simple Cybertronian dialect Optimus knew of. The same dialect, he realized, the original TransArmor suits had been programmed with.

"Please," the Mercury said in almost a whisper, gazing down at the human in its, his, hand. "Don't die. Aries and Jenna would be so upset." A pause. "So would I."

Optimus was sure he was dreaming. The suits had an AI, yes, but it wasn't sophisticated enough for this level of conscious thought. But, he realized, the original Spitfires had been given a learning AI before the problems with the original interface had come to light. The pilots of the original TransArmor Spitfire class units had gotten sick with blinding headaches and exhaustion, for no reason their doctors could discern, until Wheeljack had attempted to use the interface. After one session he realized that it had psychological impacts that were too strong for the human mind to handle. It had almost been too much for the engineer to handle and he had spent a good amount of time in the med bay after the test.

The Mercury-A and the Aries-A, the first two TransArmor units built, had regrettably decommissioned and melted down, according to the reports. Eventually the entire first run of the TransArmor suits had been destroyed, replaced with safer models. The armor unit in front of him was supposed to be the -2, not the -A.

It seemed, however, that at least the Mercury-A and perhaps the Aries-A had escaped the purge. What had been in their place Optimus wasn't aware...he make a mental note to ask Wheeljack upon his return. As he watched, the Mercury, seeming to know where Celbron was stiffest, shifted its pilot into a more comfortable position, settling the blanket more securely around the human to help against taking cold on top of everything else. Its visor then dimmed off and the suit stopped moving as if it had never moved at all.

Moments later Michaels stirred, yawning and stretching himself awake. Optimus saw the exact moment the human realized he'd been asleep because he froze and glanced around quickly, sighing in relief when he saw no one had moved. Optimus knew the light from the fire would hide the fact his optics were on dimly; human eyes were unable to isolate one light source from another. The large mech let Michaels believe his nap had gone unnoticed, wanting time to mull over the Mercury's apparent intelligence.

The Lieutenant Colonel was obviously aware of it, as he had not shown any kind of surprise when the Mercury had helped him into its cockpit the day before. Then again, how could he plug himself into the suit's neuro-interface and not know that it was self-aware? No, Celbron knew. Optimus had not kept his Autobots alive this long without noticing the details and making assumptions. It was clear in how Celbron had referred to the Mercury -- and not just in the way humans tended to attach gender to their cars, boats, planes and even computers. By all accounts, Celbron was very aware...


	8. Chapter 8

The sound of metal against rock jerked Optimus out of an unintended recharge. Powering on his optics, he saw Michaels on his feet, facing the sound, which had come from above their canyon. The Leader tried to check his chronometer but found it still offline-- there were more important systems that still needed repairing. By the lack of light filtering into the canyon it was still deep in the morning, possibly only minutes after Optimus had slipped into recharge.

The sound came again, just as softly, just as loud. This time it was accompanied by the shifting of more rocks and a hissing breath, which rumbled in a growl. Optimus was reminded of a turbo-rat, even if they weren't on Cyberton. He unspaced his gun, an unwelcome intrusion into the peace of their shelter as much as the unknown sound had been.

A soft pattering that swiftly grew louder startled both human and Autobot until they realized the rain had returned. They shared glances that were sharply contrasting; Michaels was obviously of the opinion that the rain was bad because they could no longer hear their potential attacker, while Optimus was more optimistic; he had noticed a distinct reluctance on the part of the Decepticons to be out in any kind of rain, from a light drizzle to an all-out sleet.

"That's one way to get a guy awake," Michaels whispered with only a slightly nervous grin about ten minutes later. Optimus offered him a slight nod in reply, shifting the leg the cooking was braced on. Michaels took the hint and removed everything that had been using the large mech as a brace, giving a nod in return when he was done. "What was that?" The human asked, still in his soft whisper.

"Ravage, maybe," Optimus whispered back. "Why he didn't attack I don't know. The rain might have spooked him."

"Cat's don't like rain, even if they're metal cats," Michaels agreed, sounding amused.

"On Cybertron, rain is made of acid. Even we Autobots tend to avoid the rain here as much as we can," Optimus whispered. Michael's eyes went wide and he nodded, his expression understanding.

"I would too, if that's what I'd grown up with." He paused. "Odds are, they know our location now, though. We need to move...unless there's a chance that was one of your people?"

Optimus frowned, inwardly comparing the slight sounds he had heard to recordings he had of both Steeljaw and Ravage. "It could have been Steeljaw," he allowed, still whispering. "The sounds were too slight for me to be able to make a positive match for one or the other."

Three somethings thudded to the ground outside their shelter, between them and the dam. Optimus hefted his gun, Michaels wheeled and the Mercury sprang to life, cupping the inert Celbron protectively close, bringing one of its weapons to bear in the same moment. Optimus heard the rumbling growl again and reached to move the Phantom aside so he could take aim, determined to protect the two humans.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ratchet, Soundwave and his cassettes are out there-- I'm the best bet we have of getting him back alive!"

"You're not. You don't have a mobile alt and I'm not letting Tracks outta my sight yet. Besides, Ironhide and Prowl _both_ denied your request. What made you think officer-hopping was gonna work? We do talk to each other, y'know."

"Well, it was either you or Jazz--"

Ratchet's optics narrowed to icy slits. "If you set one foot into that room, I'll make sure you never transform again."

"I thought he was doin' better?" Blaster asked, frowning as he glanced toward the private medical room Jazz was currently occupying.

"Not so much I'll let anyone bother him," Ratchet growled, "he's got two weeks--"

"You told Ironhide a few days," Blaster inturrupted.

"That was before I was jerked out of recharge _three_ hours after I'd finally relaxed because someone, I don't know who, told him what was going on and he nearly blew out _this_ fluid pump as well!" Ratchet huffed, glad that the host had closed his office door before the conversation had started. "Fluid pumps ain't a cred a dozen, y'know! I don't _have_ another one that'll fit him!"

Blaster went quiet, causing Ratchet to reach and rub a crease in his forehead with a sigh, attempting to ease the headache that had blossomed there. "You can go when the Arielbots go, now get outta my office."

"When will that be?" The host asked, glancing at the clock on the wall; it was almost five am.

"When I clear them. Out."

Blaster nodded and stood, pausing at the door. "Will somethin' be thrown at me if I say 'get some rest'?"

The CMO glanced up, his cowl turning to a wry smile at the genuinely concerned look on Blaster's face. "Naw, not this once. You can wait in the waiting room, not in my bay. Scram."

***

Rumble.

Frenzy.

Ravage.

"Into your armor," Optimus rumbled, tightening his targeting and tactical scanners on the three cassettes. He was counting on the pounding rain and the roar of the now-river would cover his words. Hopefully the cassettes hadn't seen the humans.

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Michaels replied, strapping himself into his Phantom and rumbling it out into the rain to transform. The Mercury slipped its unconscious pilot into his seat and closed its chest plate securely, though it didn't move out into the rain, knowing its armor was still breached; it would short out almost instantly in the downpour. Optimus picked up a boulder and doused the fire in a shower of sparks, then swept his hand over the camp and subspaced everything but the cooking pot, which he held carefully. "Comm silence," he said, moving into a crouch. Both armor suits nodded, training their weapons on the cassettes.

_Three of you, three of them_ , the Matrix whispered.

_Two severely damaged mechs and a medical unit against three minicons? An almost even match_ , Sentinel whispered.

_Don't underestimate the cassettes_ , Optimus replied inwardly, _besides, one is missing. Laserbeak could be behind us, not to mention Soundwave. Standoff._

_Use the knowledge and terrain to your advantage_ , Nova Prime murmured. Optimus nodded slightly, testing the repairs to his legs. Thankfully, everything seemed to be in working order.

Rumble's piledrivers morphed into existence, Frenzy started charging a sonic blast and Ravage leaped for the Mercury. Optimus threw the pot of boiling water at Ravage, shot the dam and grabbed the Mercury and Phantom, using the jump-jets in his lower legs to aid his leap for the top of the canyon wall. Though it was caught in the tarp, the Mercury got the idea and its jets fire just as Optimus' jump-jets cut out, carrying them up to sprawl haphazardly on the ground above. It was the tarp, along with the river now surging into their box canyon, that saved them from Laserbeak. Caught over the Mercury with the anchoring cables, the tarp settled over them as visual camouflage just as the vulture came screeching down, drawn by the panicked cries of his brothers, who had been swamped by a wall of water when the dam shattered.

There had been caves, limestone, hopefully large enough to shelter them, in the hills that had framed their battle ground. Optimus pushed himself to his feet, bent to pill the Mercury up and set off, the Phantom on his heels. The trek was nightmarish but he had experienced such stumbles through rain and mud toward a shelter that might not exist many times before. From the way Michaels made no comment as his suit moved to brace the Mercury, still covered in the tarp, from the other side, it wasn't his first journey either.

"I hope you don't mind the loss of your cooking pot," Optimus found himself saying in an attempt to bolster the human's spirits.

"Of course I do," was the immediate reply. "God, man, what were you thinking, saving our lives like that? I demand you go back and retrieve it at once. The water, too. That water had the perfect mud-to-coffee ratio that I need to survive."

"If it means that much to you, I'll go ask Ravage to to return it," Optimus replied gravely. Michaels laughed, adjusting his suit's hold on the Mercury.

"That was good thinking," he congratulated, "using the pot to distract them."

"Hopefully that bought us enough time to hold out until the Autobots or the US Military can find us. I don't think either myself or the Mercury could make the trip back to either base unassisted."

"Never know until we try," Michaels replied, "though I have to agree, despite the Colonel's condition. Looks like we're stuck with each other for a while longer."


	10. Chapter 10

"I don't like it."

"You usually don't like 'it'. Are they cleared?"

Ratchet frowned, examining the readouts on the screen in front of him carefully one last time. He moved over to place a hand gently just above Skydive's wingbase, watching as the flier did his best not to shift. The CMO dropped his hand and glanced at another console, this one showing a weather radar screen. He studied the patterns there...and shook his head in denial.

"No, they're not."

The pronouncement extracted a groan of disbelief from Blaster and a soft exasperated noise from Ironhide. "Ratchet--" Blaster started, only to cut himself off when the medic wheeled to turn an angry scowl on him. Surprisingly, the medic's voice was quiet when he rebuked the Host.

"Take Powerglide, if you can get him into the air in this weather, take Windcharger or Bluestreak or both for the ground, I don't care. I will not risk sending these mechs out in those winds when they can't stand a bit of pressure to their wingbases! Nor," he held up a hand to forestall the protests he could see building on both mech's faces, "will I send them out incomplete. You should know better than t'ask; they function ten times better together than apart an' if one or two of them where here when the others were out there, they'd be distracted, which is worse than useless."

What silenced the head of security and the Host the final time was the distinct lack of protesting from the team in question. Blaster signed his acceptance. "Sorry, guys," he murmured. "We'll find another way."

"I'm sorry we nearly asked you boys t'do somethin' you're not ready for," Ironhide added as Blaster left. "G'wan back t'yer bay an' rest up, now."

The five mechs murmured tired gratitude, leaving for their bay. Ratchet watched them go with an almost parental frown. "I know we need to find him," he started once they were gone but this time Ironhide held up a hand to forestall the medic's words.

"I understand an' you made th' right call. Y'wouldn't be so good at'cher post if ya had let those boys out before they were ready. Like Blaster said, we'll find another way."

"We'd better," Ratchet sighed, rubbing his forehead again, where his headache from earlier was still pounding away. "Mechs're starting to realize he's not around."

There was a pause before Ironhide replied, in which Ratchet noticed a strange flashing lighting half of one wall in his office. He was half way across the med bay before the old mech started to follow. "Blaster, Springer, Powerglide and Bluestreak just left. Blaster used the base internal closed-circuit communications t'report. He said that they'll keep the radio silence," he said after closing the CMO's office door behind him.

"Good," Ratchet said absently, realizing the message light on his desk was half-blocked by a stack of pads, which was the source of the strange lighting effect. He keyed the message to play. "Apparently the humans are missing two of their own as well. Two of the TransArmor pilots. They haven't been able to send out air searches but they've been doing ground patrols since 19:00. Tracks which looked like they could be from the Decepticon cassettes were found late last night...though they were not able to follow them because of the rain."

"Who're they missin'?" Ironhide asked, his weathered features settling into an even deeper frown.

"Hm...Lieutenant Colonel Celbron, pilot of a Mercury and Second Lieutenant Michaels, pilot of a medical-class Phantom."

"Must be that Mercury that was facin' up against the Seekers," Ironhide mused, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. "I was noticin' how good the pilot was. Took Starscream gettin' th' drop on 'im 'fore he got knocked down."

"It's too much to hope that they all found each other," Ratchet stated. "But if our guys come across their Celbron or Michaels, I know they'll help them out."

***

"You should be resting."

Optimus glanced down from where he was crouched in the entrance of the cave, watching the sky gradually lighten even as the rain continued to fall. "I thought you were taking second watch."

"I couldn't sleep, knowing you were still damaged and on watch," Michaels replied, his hands cupped around a gently steaming mug.

"You've had the least amount of rest of all of us," Optimus objected quietly. "I am mostly repaired."

"You need to take better care of yourself," Michaels told him calmly, with all the assurance of a medic who knew medics could pull rank on generals under the right circumstances. "Your people need you."

"They need a Prime more than they need me in particular," Optimus replied softly, looking out at the rain again. "I need them far more than they need me. I am just one mech, after all. Should I fail to return they would flounder for a short time, then pull together under the strain and perform unimaginable feats of heroism to retrieve the Matrix and find a new leader. Prowl, I think, would be the Matrix' next choice. He is greatly respected."

"You underestimate how much they are inspired by you," a quiet voice said. Both Optimus and Michaels turned in surprise to see Celbron regarding them from blackened and sunken eyes. "When...when all of the TransArmor pilots were at the same base, when Wheeljack and Perceptor were still developing the interface...you came to see their progress. Things they had been stumped by for days were suddenly seen in a new light." The Lieutenant Colonel paused to give two shallow coughs, which he grimaced through. "They...they strive to...to be worthy of your...regard."

"With all due respect--" Michaels started, frowning as he jogged quickly to the Lieutenant Colonel's side.

"I think this is a situation where formalities can be bypassed, Jon," Celbron murmured, letting his eyes close. Michaels stumbled over an uneven spot on the cave floor, though he caught his balance just in time, his eyes wide. Optimus gave a mental chuckle, remembering the earlier conversation about formalities.

"Is it horrible if I say I don't know your name even though you know mine?' Michaels asked once he had gotten himself into the Mercury's hand.

"No," Celbron whispered, one corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile. Optimus turned to watch the rain again, though he kept active sensors turned on the humans as well, still 'watching' them in a way. "It's Jaden."

"Nice to meet you," Jon said quietly. "You'll be just fine, Jaden, so don't worry about a thing. Do you need anything? Are you comfortable?"

"I assume I am in shock," Jaden whispered, "as I can not feel anything at all. May I have some water?"

"Sure," Jon agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

Optimus was distracted by a glint of a metallic surface through the rain. He tightened his long-range sensors and winced when it caused his optics to spark once again. Not all of his systems had been brought up to speed yet, it seemed. His short-range sensors didn't reach far enough to tell him what the glint was, so he pulled up the tarp and hung it carefully between himself and the humans, blocking the light from the fire in an effort to hide their position. Of course, if whatever was out there was an Autobot, he had just delayed their rescue. If whatever was out there was a Decepticon, he had just saved their lives. The large mech crouched in the rain, attempting to ignore the way the rain was seeping through cracks in his armor and dripping onto his damage.

_You should have thought to set up traps_ , he could almost hear Jazz whispering. Or perhaps it was yet another voice from the Matrix. At the moment he didn't want to spare the processing power to tell which. _You've got the supplies for it. At least a' early warnin' system. Somethin' out farther than your short-range sensors that'd make noise when stepped on or tripped over._

Why was his attention wandering so badly? He focused again on the glint, only to find it gone. Irritated with himself, he checked his working short-range sensors. The humans were unmoving in the cave, Michaels no doubt tending to Celbron as best he could. Nothing was stirring outside the cave within fifty yards.

A crash of metal on rock startled him and his gun swung to the left, his optics attempting to compensate for the lack of light and the interference from the rain. Switching to infrared simply blinded him so he switched back to normal vision. Nothing. Worse than nothing-- his long-range sensors suddenly kicked to life to reveal an Autobot signal, which then switched to a Decepticon signal. It could be Soundwave. It could be Jazz, released from medical to find their leader, switching between signals so to confuse pursuers. No, Ratchet would never--

His comm hissed and he hastily switched it off. How had it activated? He remembered switching it off completely in the canyon-- no, the long-range comm had been non-functional, but the short-range had been left active. No wonder the cassettes had found them so easily; they and Soundwave could track a functioning comm like Red Alert tracking a security breach. Optimus returned his attention and almost started to see the glint once more, but closer. He needed to concentrate. Ignore the rain. Listen past it. Ignore the sensor shadows from the half-working long-range sensors. Pay attention to the optical feed. He shifted to keep his joints from freezing, his gun ready. _Make sure the target is a threat before firing. Do_ not _fire first and apply targeting sensors later._

In a moment of odd clarity the large mech was aware of just how poor the situation was; all of the damage that had kept him from moving previously had been repaired, set at a higher priority than more subtle functions by his internal repairs at the time. Now, though he could move, his processor was scrambling to make sense of the chaos his sensors were feeding him as they shorted from the rain or internal repairs patched them haphazardly back into functionality.

The Decepticon signal collided with his raw short-range sensors, causing him to wince. He looked again and frowned when the silhouette of the mech looked more like Blaster than his counterpart. It went against all logic, however; Prowl would never let Blaster out on a rescue effort, he was needed too much back at the base, for one, and the Host didn't have a mobile alt, for another. Which, it occurred to him as the signal seemed to swim closer, might be an advantage in this kind of weather...

Optimus realized that it was more than just the signal that was swimming; his optical feed was becoming intermittent. Frowning, he set half of his current processing load to paying attention to the figure moving toward him and the other half to directing his internal repairs toward his optical feed.

***

Tempted as he was, Blaster didn't let the band normally tuned into his favorite local radio station activate. Instead he let the music the rain made when doing its dance against the Earth soothe his anoxious mind the way the silken chill soothed his slightly over-heating antenna. The very slight tickle he had been following for the last seven miles suddenly hissed, drawing his attention to a faint glimmer in the near distance. Thankfully the lightning had stopped; he would never have been able to hold onto the tenuous track had the electricity still been casting itself from ground to sky.

A song crept into his mind and he smiled. _Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left it’s seeds while I was sleeping, and a vision that was planted in my brain still remains – within the sound of silence._ The glimmer had snuffed but he didn't need it any longer. The call of the open short-range comm was enough to guide him now.

A whisper skittered past his antenna; a cassette's call. Despite knowing his cew was safe inside his chest, the panicked plea caused him to miss a step, sending him plunging to his knees in the muck the ground had become with the introduction of moisture. It was similar to the swamps their battlefields became, save this was liquid life as contrast to liquid death. Instinct and a Host's spark collided with intellectual knowledge of the war surrounding him; he wanted to go, he had to stay. Laying where he had fallen a moment, he compromised by boosting the silent cry until he felt another set of receptors spring to cradle the signal with relief. Rescuing his cassettes would hopefully distract Soundwave long enough that he simply left. There had been an ache of exhaustion in the other Host's reception in the signal as well, which gave Blaster more confidence that his counterpart would simply go.

Blaster eased himself to his feet, pleased to find himself undamaged. The comm signal he had been following had vanished but he knew the direction from which it had come.

As he approached, he spotted a change in the rain's patterns and heard the difference between rain on earth and rain on metal. He relaxed and finally shut his tracking sensors off, jogging forward. He felt Optimus' sensors skitter against his antenna and frowned, quickening his step. The sensor patterns were far too erratic for the Leader to be functioning properly; a thought which was confirmed when the large mech's dimly glowing optics flickered and went dark just as Blaster lept to catch him.

**

The blur and flurry of activity startled Optimus even in the condition the rain had plunged his circuits into. Gentle hands caught his shoulders, warmth flooded over him as light swept into his online but not consciously functioning optics. The warmth was welcome...he would never admit it, but the gentle hands even moreso. He sagged against them with a soft sigh of relief, knowing that with a healthy Autobot who was strong and rested enough to lift his not quite petite frame, he could relax somewhat and not have to concentrate on guarding the humans...no, now he could concentrate on only the tactics of the situation and getting everyone out alive.

"Wha--"

"Relax, I'mma Autobot. Blaster's th' name."

"Jon-- he swore he was all right."

"He might've been before the rain got past his armor. Rain'n internal systems don't mix, dig? Holy _slag_ is that Celbron an' the Mercury?"

"What's left of them. Jaden needs--"

The voices swam out of coherency even as his optics fine-tuned the feed into clarity. All he could see at the moment, however, was the far wall and he lacked the power for the cables in his neck to obey the order his processor was repeatedly broadcasting. A face eased into his vision slowly enough it didn't startle him and a voice did the same over his internal comm.

_Hello, sir._

_Hello, Steeljaw_ , the leader replied, knowing the words would be heard by the cassette, even if he didn't speak aloud. It was one of the benefits of having a section of his mind divided into the 'Roller' consciousness-- he could communicate on a level typically only Hosts and their minis could achieve. Thankfully it took very little power to transmit on the subsonic level.

_Silence remains until the Other is gone._

The proclamation momentarily puzzled the big mech until he belatedly remembered where the Decepticon Cassettes were, Soundwave would never be far behind. Soundwave and his cassettes could all track an open comm unit. Another thought distracted his rain-muddled processor, urgent enough for him to force his head up slightly. _The humans need medical attention. Blaster is to get it for them. Now._

_Refused._

_What?_

_The humans refused. Both of them. Blaster tried to get them to go already. He will not leave you unguarded._

_The lieutenant colonel is hardly in any shape to be refusing anything._

_Neither are you._

Even as the Leader was formulating a reply to that obviously erroneous statement, Steeljaw's face left his field of vision to be replaced by Blaster. "Hey there, sir. Rain's drainin' from your systems so you should be gettin' some power back in a nano. I fixed the cave so the floor'll stay dry." _The lieutenant colonel is refusin' t'pilot his suit into the rain an' Jon says we can't move him without it at least movin' its hand to the ground. He also said he tried t'get into the cockpit to access the controls but it wouldn't open for him, like its completely powered down. But I'm still detectin' residual energy traces from it._

"Good work, thank you, Blaster." _As do I. As soon as Soundwave is out of range break the radio silence and notify the humans of our location. Do not mention the readings from the Mercury to anyone._

"Yes, sir."

They didn't expect the thunder, but no one was startled by it. Blaster moved to watch by the cave entrance while Rewind and Eject chatted quietly with Jon and Steeljaw stayed at Optimus' side. It was a wonder, Optimus mused, letting his optics dim offline, that the small presence was such a comfort. The lion cassette didn't speak or even look at the commander but still was there, casually watching over him.

_Later._

One optic flickered online at the sound of Blaster's voice. _What?_

A pause as the boombox looked in his direction. _You just requested a report on how Ratchet and the others were doing. Is the rain still in your cranial?_

_Apparently. I do want to know, however._

_I'll give you a full report as soon as Soundwave has moved off. He's closer, now. Turn off your comm._

Optimus reached with both fingers and mind, frowning behind his mask to find the communications unit online again. _I thought I had_ , he murmured, pulling it off of his arm and shutting it off, subspacing it when he was done.

_It had just turned itself back on, probably with your internal repairs. Don't worry about it. We should be safe now._

The wait, at first, was bearable, as he slipped on and offline at random due to the internal repairs. Once the rain damage to the systems his processor required had been mostly finished, he realized that almost a full Earth day had passed since the beginning of the battle. Soundwave still wasn't retreating? Celbron's situation was becoming dire. The good of the few would never outweigh the good of the many, however, not to mention his long-range comm was still offline, so the large mech couldn't simply break the radio silence and call for help.

Time slowed. What was the human saying? Something about kettles never boiling if one watched them?


	12. Chapter 12

_We cannot wait any longer. I know I'm asking a lot but--_

_My guys can hold their own. I'll send Rewind and Steeljaw out to find the guys searchin' and Ramhorn and Eject to the base. Once Bluestreak an' Windcharger're here we should be able to break radio silence an' hold Soundwave off until--_

Optimus waited, but Blaster didn't resume speaking. _What's wrong?_

_Soundwave just broke radio silence. It's heavily encrypted, it'll take a while to know what he said._

_Work on it. Meanwhile, the cassettes do need to go._

_'Course._

The Leader turned his attention elsewhere so as not to intrude when Blaster began speaking softly to his cassettes, though he knew he wouldn't be able to understand even if he did listen in. It was a matter of principal. He found himself watching Jon watching the interaction curiously, though the human's expression shifted to alarmed when the cassettes headed out into the rain.

"Farbeit for me to tell you folks how to run your army or treat each other," the medic started, frowning, "but sending kids out into that storm just seems--" he stopped when Blaster, grinning, began to shake his head.

"My guys ain't kids, dig? They're only a few vorn younger'n I am. I know where you're comin' from, but with us, small don't mean young."

He was distracted from Jon's reply by something on the very edge of his audio range. The roar of the rain had, until now, smothered the steady _fwump fwump fwump_ of a helicopter's blades-- the only question was whether it was Blades, Springer or the human military. There was a chance, as well, that it was either Vortex or one of the Decepticons' human allies.

"--Bluestreak's probably the youngest of us, but th' twins're pretty fresh, too. Don't mean they aren't our best fighters though--"

Without thinking, Optimus pushed himself up and went to the tarp covering the door, intending to slip out to get a better mark on how close the chopper was. He was stopped by a hand on his arm; Blaster. _Your armor's still breached, sir._

"I know. I heard a helicopter." He spoke aloud, softly, for Jon's benefit.

The Host frowned. "One of ours? Ratchet didn't want anyone flying in this weather."

"I can't tell. Springer is strong enough to hold his own in this weather. Blades thinks he is."

They froze at the sound of weapon's fire, a steady pounding of rounds into the mud that could be heard even by Jon, judging by the way he started. When Blaster didn't comment, Optimus glanced over to see the Host with a slightly strained expression. The Leader freed his arm to set his hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "It's not Springer or Blades," the communications officer managed after a few moments of silence. "It's humans. And they just shot Steeljaw."

Silence.

Optimus' free hand clenched a moment before Blaster attempted to shrug his shoulders clear, obviously intending on going to his cassette's rescue. They both turned at a familiar series of sounds behind them; the Phantom was transforming with Jon in its pilot seat.

"You two need to stay here," he said through the armor suit's speakers, heading for the door. "In this rain, those ... men" the way he said it lent an insult's gravity to the normally innocuous word, "probably saw the feline body structure and thought Ravage. If you two go out there, it could get worse. For everyone. No offense, but them attacking me is one thing; attacking the Leader of the Autobots or even just an Officer is entirely another."

"Just go," Blaster urged, still straining against the hand on his shoulder. "They're about half a mile north. Go!"

"I'll find them," Jon promised, stepping over the rain-break to disappear into the mist, which muffled his heavy footsteps moments later.

Again, time dragged. One minute. Two. Three.

"He'll be fine," Celbron whispered, startling both of them. Blaster finally succeeded in shrugging Optimus' hand off, but only because he was heading toward the human and not the mouth of the cave. The Leader let him go, remaining where he was to watch the tarp, gun ready at his side. He could, if he turned up his audios, hear every breath gurgling in the man's chest. He turned down his audios.

"You're one tough human," Blaster murmured, optics dim. "How come your military hasn't cut its losses?"

"Mercury and the Phantom," Celbron replied, watching them through barely open eyes. "Top secret-- brass'd do anything to get it back."

"Makes sense."

"I'm dying," Celbron's voice was the forming of syllables using his breath.

"Don't you even start that," Blaster shot back, though his tone was gentle.

"Not trying. Get Mercury to Wheeljack-- don't let military have him." He smiled slightly, just before his eyes fell closed. "Jon did well. Don't blame him. Pain's gone."

"Hey," Blaster murmured, "stop it. No goin' offline. I'm sure you've gotta family who'd miss you."

"Jon knows who to tell." Celbron took a breath as deeply as he could, which was only slightly moreso than his usual breathing. "No other family. Never knew true dad. Might want to use a test to find him."

With that the human slid into unconsciousness, leaving Blaster staring at his limp form.

"He's still alive," Optimus said quietly, watching the human through his short-range sensors while his long-range sensors blanketed the area outside the cave mouth for any movement. "His condition has worsened, though."

_I think he knows about the strange readings we've been getting from the Mercury suit_ , Blaster sent, moving to crouch beside Optimus, one hand folded into a sonic cannon.

_The Mercury will wind up in Wheeljack's lab, instead of with the US military_ , Optimus agreed quietly. _As payment for harming Steeljaw, among other things. The Phantom is returning._

Jon slid his armor into the cave, crossing to lay Steeljaw next to the fire. Rewind hopped from the suit's shoulder, crouching next to the lion protectively, Blaster hurrying over to check them both and begin repairs. "They apparently did think he was Ravage," the medic told the Autobots, a bitter twist to his voice. "Couldn't be bothered to look at their FOF tags. Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine," Blaster murmured, sitting back with a sigh, one hand on Steeljaw's mane. "Just needs some TLC. Celbron passed out."

"The chopper should be landing any minute now and they're equipped for medical evac. I don't know how we're going to move the Mercury, though."

"The Mercury will be coming back with us to the base," Optimus rumbled, watching the chopper drop out of the clouds with his long-range sensors. "We are best equipped to repair it."

Before Jon could reply, Optimus pulled back the tarp, letting the light from the fire spill onto the helicopter crew's stunned, and a bit apprehensive, expressions just before they hurried in. The rain had, finally, stopped, though the clouds showed no sign of clearing. Just as he was about to let the tarp fall again, he spotted a muted glint just below the clouds and stepped out to bring it into focus.

Skyfire. But how to signal him without radio-- the Leader of the Autobots unspaced a device he had confiscated from Sideswipe; some kind of light projector, the idea for which he said he had gotten from the humans. It worked a bit like a car headlight, though the beam was more focused and brighter. He had only been signaling for half a minute when the large jet's wings dipped and he began to circle, heading for Optimus' position.


	13. Chapter 13

"Thank you for not killing yourself," Ratchet grumbled, patching the last of Optimus' armor breaches. The medic had, as always, left the armor for last, citing that sometimes it was handy to have a hole or two to get his tools through to the less accessible systems.

"You're welcome. Thank you for not killing me when I got back. I knew you would be angry as soon as Bruticus sent me flying," Optimus replied gravely, though the metal about his optics did give away the bit of tired amusement he was feeling.

"I've had a couple of days to cool off," the medic returned, though he did scowl at the Leader. "I know that human was in trouble but you could have gotten you both killed, so next time, don't zone out. Got it?"

"Of course." Optimus let his optics dim, keeping himself relaxed to help Ratchet do his best work. "Any word on the lieutenant colonel's condition?"

"He's in surgery, last I heard. It's still touch-and-go."

"I want to know as soon as there's an update, as you probably know. Has Wheeljack reported in or is he still repairing the Mercury?"

"He reported in." Ratchet fell quiet, indicating to Optimus that either the medic was concentrating hard or didn't feel the report could be trusted to the relative publicity of the med bay. Optimus waited and sure enough, a few minutes later, Ratchet opened an extremely short-range and heavily encrypted comm on a known secure channel, waiting for the large mech to respond before saying anything.

[I read you.]

[Good. You were right. That Mercury is a -A model, though how Celbron managed to keep him out of the purge is beyond me. We had a Mercury-A and it was disassembled, so it couldn't have been faked. But we only made one Mercury-A in the original run.]

[Wait. Him?]

[Yes.] Ratchet's tone took on an exasperated amusement. [ _He_ is, as many of Wheeljack's recent creations have turned out to be, sentient. His intelligence is on par with any sparklet his age-- maybe moreso since he's been learning from Celbron, who is an adult human with a good education, through the neuro interface.]

[Wheeljack's report about the -A series neuro interface indicated it was too dangerous for a human mind to handle for any length of time. He said it was like bon--] Optimus paused, a thought startling him. [...is that even possible?]

[So you came to that conclusion, too. Apparently it is, since we've got the proof of such a union staring us in the face.] The medic finished the repair and leaned against a nearby repair table, arms crossed over his chest.

[It shouldn't be physically possible. Human souls aren't tangible, the way our sparks are.]

[You're right, it's not, if you're talking about a spark-bond. This isn't a spark-bond. It's closest to the kind of connection the Twins have, though far less intense. I've just never seen one form so quickly; it's only been nine months since the project began. It's possible it was there before Mercury, which is what he prefers to be called by the way, became sentient.]

[Or it's the reason for his emergence.] Optimus frowned behind his battle mask, his optics narrowing sharply. [We reported to the United States Government that the -A series had been destroyed, correct?]

[According to Wheeljack, yes.]

[That armor suit is no longer the property of the US Military, then. Have Wheeljack build a -2 and send it back under the same numbers Mercury previously flew under.] The Leader raised his optics to meet that of his CMO. [We need to protect this sparklet from those who would take advantage of him.]

[What about Celbron?]

[We can hardly keep them apart.] Optimus paused, thinking. [Tell me when you get an update on his condition. I'll talk to Jazz--] Ratchet cleared his vocalizer, his expression tightening. The Leader's shoulders dropped, though he managed to bite back a weary sigh. [What did he do to himself this time?]

[More like someone told him you were missing and he set himself back two weeks in his recovery. I have Red checking the security tapes and as soon as I know who it is--]

[Understood,] the large mech said. [If the punishment might entail physical harm, run it past me first, please. Otherwise...have fun.]

[Believe me, I will.] The medic paused, chin on one hand as he thought. [Jazz is a good resource for sneakery, but Sideswipe is just about as good. Since this can't wait, I'd suggest him as a second choice for out-of-box thinking.]

[Prankster he may be,] the Leader agreed, easing to his feet under Ratchet's watchful gaze. [Though I want the circle of knowledge about this matter kept small, with Jazz out, I'll need to consult with Blaster, Smokescreen and Sideswipe.]

[With Sunstreaker by default of Sideswipe, Wheeljack, Prowl, Ironhide and Red Alert knowing, that's a mighty big small circle.]

[Agreed, but it's necessary. Thank you, Ratchet.]

[Anytime.]


	14. Chapter 14

"Steeljaw made a full recovery." The CMO was currently slouched in one of the chairs in front of Optimus' desk, skimming a pad he'd written a few days before. "Blaster's fine, Windcharger's axle repairs took, Bluestreak's fine-- sparkling enjoys the rain, apparently. Jazz is back to light duty--" he glanced up and fixed the Leader of the Autobots with a sharp look that belied his casual posture. "That's monitor and morale duties only. No field work. No matter what he tries to wheedle you with, he isn't ready for it. And won't be until you hear from _me_."

"Better take him off monitor duty, then," Optimus replied, scratching out something he'd written on his own pad. "If he hears a whisper that any one of his crew is in danger he'll be gone-- and without asking for permission. It's just how he is."

"Agreed," the medic sighed, shaking his head. "Who knows. Maybe sending Springer or Mirage in where we used to send him will throw the damn 'Cons off long enough for them not to get the damage he usually takes. Mech's a sucker for pain. If I didn't know better I'd say he didn't have any self-preservation programming."

"You should check for it the next time you have him on the table," the large mech rumbled, causing Ratchet to grin.

"That's a good idea. Moving on, your repairs have knit nicely, though I still don't want you in the field. Prowl and Magnus have been doing fine."

"Agreed about Prowl and Magnus. But--"

"I know what you're going to say. And I'm not being 'overly cautious'. You took some very bad damage and then stood in the rain for a while. Your processor almost shorted completely. It needs time to recover. Been having helm-aches?"

"Only slightly moreso than usual. Cliffjumper--"

"Oh good Primus," Ratchet groaned, raising a hand to rub his optics. "What'd he do this time?"

"Nothing that will land him in your bay. I simply had the pleasure of mediating a conversation between him and Sunstreaker."

"And you're still alive?"

Optimus gave a single dry chuckle. "Yes. With the helm-ache."

"Well, that's perfectly normal and all I would prescribe would be a triple standing sentry shift for the mech who provoked it. With Red Alert to join them at the beginning and the end."

"Who in the middle?"

Ratchet's mouth quirked. "Prowl."

"Sometimes," Optimus said gravely as he made a few notes on his pad, "I wonder about you, Ratchet. Cliffjumper shouldn't be a problem for a while."

"Sometimes I wonder about me, too," the medic chuckled. His expression faded to one more serious a few moments later, however, when Optimus finished writing. "Mercury's repairs also took. He's a bright sparklet, though I'm worried about how he'll be taken by the others. As far as I can tell he doesn't have a spark. If he does it's not in the usual location and it's -very- heavily shielded."

"Doesn't the pilot seat take up where the spark would typically be?" Optimus asked, brows pinched. "Teletraan doesn't have a spark, yet he's become sentient in the time we were in stasis."

"Don't ask me how _that_ happened," Ratchet grumbled. "All I know is that Wheeljack said something about new programming and the fact that the life support systems were used when we were all out. Also, that there are the remains of a virus, and anti-virus, that are incredibly sophisticated, to the point where he wouldn't have seen them if he hadn't been going through the ship's programming code line by line."

"And the fact that the escape shuttle is missing, but none of our people are," Optimus agreed. "It's something we still need to set aside for later, unfortunately. But speaking of Mercury, have we gotten any update on Celbron's condition yet?"

"None," the medic sighed. "Every time I ask all I get is that he's in the ICU. Still."

"We both know how fragile humans are," the Leader murmured. "Taking their connection in the same frame of mind as I would Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, would Mercury survive if Celbron didn't?"

"That's a question I can't answer. Neither can Wheeljack or Perceptor. It's not a yes or no situation. It's completely unprecedented and unheard of. And Wheeljack is refusing to trespass on Mercury's rights to study the phenomenon further, not that I blame him."

"I don't blame him one bit either," Optimus agreed. "In fact, I'm glad he's refusing. Mercury is no drone, even if he doesn't have a spark. It simply means there's something more complicated going on here and only Primus knows what it might be. As far as I'm concerned, I'm perfectly willing to let it stay that way."

"Agre--"

They both stopped short when the intruder alarms began to wail. Moments later they were on their feet when the location of the intruder was reported: the engineering bay.

"Mercury," Ratchet said, bolting for the door, Optimus right behind him. They met Wheeljack and Ironhide when they arrived, the four of them entering the main engineering lab carefully, the two warriors covering the engineer and medic as they searched for the source of the alarm. Finding nothing in the labs, they turned to the bay Mercury was currently calling home-- and found the intruder, cradled in the young jet's hands.

"Lieutenant Colonel Celbron," Optimus started, stepping forward. "Last we heard you were in ICU. Will we have your doctors or any other United States military personnel beating down our doors to get you back where you belong?"

"I was," Celbron replied, his voice soft and breathy even as he stood as straight as he could with his injuries. "But then I was medically discharged because the hole in my lung will take so long to heal, so as soon as I could drive, I came to find Mercury. Thank you for taking care of him."

"So you're a civilian?" Ratchet asked, frowning as he moved over to take a closer scan of the human, mostly to make sure he wasn't going to complicate his condition by being out of bed.

"Yes."

"Well," the CMO said, scowling lightly at the irregular readings he was getting. There was little he could do about them, though, with Celbron held protectively by Mercury. "That neatly solves the problem of how to keep you two together. We'll build quarters for you--"

"We're going to Oahu."

"Why?" Optimus asked quietly after a startled silence.

"I just found out I have family there," Celbron replied quietly. "Mercury will be fine; my family owns a very large piece of land which includes an aircraft hangar."

"I want to go," Mercury added, looking up at the mechs surrounding them. "I like it here, but Jaden needs to rest to get better."

"An' you two deserve your privacy," Wheeljack agreed, crossing to stand next to Mercury, facing Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide. "It's not like we have any right to keep them here."

"We can protect them here," Ironhide replied, frowning. "There's a military base over there; Pearl Harbor. What's t'say they won't try t'confiscate Mercury, thinkin' he's government property?"

"Give me Autobot decals," Mercury suggested, his visor bright. "They couldn't argue then, could they?"

"They might try, but it'd give us a basis for defending you," Ratchet put in with a nod. "Good idea. C'mon, youngmech. Let's head down to the med bay."

"I'd like to speak with Optimus while you get that done," Celbron said quietly, crossing to the tips of Mercury's fingers. Optimus instantly stepped forward to receive the human, making sure he didn't stumble.

"I'll send Mercury your way once I've made sure his repairs have stuck," Ratchet replied, gesturing for the young mech to follow him and Wheeljack to the Med Bay.

Once Celbron was sitting in one of the chairs Optimus kept in his office for his human visitors, the Leader sat to regard him quietly. "What's on your mind?"

"How did you know about Mercury?" Celbron asked directly, his expression as calm as Optimus had ever seen it.

"When you were unconscious and he thought I was asleep, he spoke to you," Optimus replied, just as calmly. "It caught me off guard but not as much as it would have after he moved you to the cockpit on his own."

"Who have you told?"

"Ratchet, Wheeljack, Jazz, Prowl, Ironhide, Red Alert and myself know where he originally came from. The rest of the Autobots will simply be told that he is there." Optimus smiled slightly, the corners of his optics crinkling. "Jazz will handle the rest."

"Mercury mentioned him," Celbron murmured, "he liked him."

"Most do. Jazz is a personable mech," Optimus agreed. "Mercury is a sentient in my optics and Wheeljack has made sure he has full rights as a citizen of Cybertron. Don't worry."

"Worrying is something I do about those under my care," Celbron replied, rising and holding out his good hand. "It was good working with you, Optimus Prime."

"I hope we have occasion to work with each other again," Optimus replied, taking the hand gently with a smile. "Under better circumstances, of course."

"Of course."


End file.
